Waking Up in Vegas
by Sadistic-but-sweet
Summary: Nothing is more awkward than waking up the morning after a drunken one-night-stand. Except, maybe, waking up in Vegas after a drunken one-night-stand. Demyx/Luxord, rated for awkward tension and humor.


A/N - Dear lord, am I really putting this up? I should be so ashamed. I don't even support this pairing! *headdesks*

This was written last year on a dare in literally one hour. I've cleaned it up and added quite a bit since the original. Inspired by "Waking Up in Vegas" by Katy Perry. I'm going to go hide my shame now. :P

* * *

The first thing Demyx noticed when he woke up was the bright lights outside the window that were not from the sun. He sat up slowly, his hair sticking up even more than it usually did in its mullet style. Shivering slightly, Demyx had to wonder when it got so cold. He peered outside the window near the bed, slowly comprehending where he was. Lights, bright and neon, hung in the sky right outside the window. Despite the late hour he could still see the headlights of cars, the loud jubilation of crowds.

Neon lights. Crowded streets. In the middle of the night?

Demyx groaned, rubbing his face. That's right. He was in the grandiose city of risk takers and last chances – Las Vegas. The City That Never Sleeps. The people looked like ants through the windows that covered an entire wall top to bottom, and those curtains looked like silk. They were slightly parted to let one look out. The room was fancy, with a mini fridge and a television. The walls were painted in fancy blue and gold patterns, even. Demyx looked out the window again, blinking sleepily. They had to be at least fifty feet in the air.

The guitarist and occasional sitarist rubbed his eyes, thinking, willing his mind to work. How did he wind up here? His room had been a small little motel outside of town, with his band mates. There were two small beds, not one big one with comfy sheets and a real mattress. How did he -?

Money, lots of it. Something about a poker tournament. Yeah, he won it. People were cheering and he smiled and looked over at himself.

Demyx frowned. That wasn't quite right. Wait. No, he didn't win. That wasn't him. Another guy did. Then how did he get enough to book a five star hotel room? Did Axel or Roxas win big and share the winnings? No, they went back early.

None of this made sense, his head hurt too much. All he saw in his minds eye was bits and pieces of places and people he'd been and seen last night. The Vegas Strip. A casino. Axel singing his heart out. The wink of a stranger.

His head throbbed painfully. Did he drink anything? Maybe a cocktail or two.

Demyx pulled his hand away from his face, counting on his fingers. He squinted, counting again, mentally and physically counting. Six. He held up both hands right in front of his eyes.

Six cocktails.

No wonder his head felt like it had been smashed in with a hammer. Axel always did call him a light weight. Demyx rubbed his eyes, mentally cursing the red haired singer and hoping he would wake up with a worse headache than Demyx was forced to endue. Demyx groaned, too tired to do anything about his headache at that moment, and flopped back down onto the bed. He suddenly squeaked, landing on something as he hit the bed. He heard a voice groan softly, an arm pulled out from under his back. Someone muttered out in a weary British accent, "What the bloody hell?"

Demyx froze. Slowly he blinked. There was a stranger laying next to him. Demyx wasn't the brightest bulb, he knew this, but suddenly everything was put into disturbingly obvious perspective.

That chill he felt when he woke up.

The drinks.

The poker tournament.

The fancy hotel.

He looked down at himself, yelping and ducking under the covers quickly. He was completely naked and in bed with a stranger. In Las Vegas. After getting drunk. Demyx could not think of a way this could get worse.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Demyx felt the bed shift as the other male in bed sat up. His accent was rough, and he drew out the word _are_ so it sounded slightly mocking. Demyx peered out from under the blankets, only letting his head show, looking up at the also naked blond. At least, as far as Demyx could tell he was naked, considering the blankets thankfully covered his lower half. Staring at him, Demyx gave himself a little leeway – the male was kind of sexy. At least, sexy in a blond haired, clipped mustache and beard, one-ear pierced, pale blue eyes kind of way.

Demyx failed to come up with an intelligent reply. He was not good at handling awkward situations. That was Axel's job, occasionally Roxas's, but not his. "Hiding?" he said questioningly, red across the cheeks. How stupid was that? Seriously, hiding? From what? He drew himself up a little, trying to make himself seem bigger than he felt. "I really...Ah...shouldn't...How'd I get here?" Demyx decided to go with the safe question.

The blond British male chuckled, running a hand through his own sleep tousled hair. "You honestly don't remember? Well, it doesn't surprise me, although I am a little hurt," he said, his voice making Demyx mentally scowl. He wasn't a violent individual, but the mocking tone was getting old. "We met last night, remember? You were a young aspiring musician who just had his first big gig. At least, that's what you told me after about two cocktails and a martini."

Oh yeah. Demyx had forgotten about the martini.

Demyx scratched the back of his head, beginning to shut his eyes and think, but he felt something on his hand grazing the back of his head. He pulled his hand away, and stared. On the back of his fourth finger was a little band of silver with some sort of shiny gem stuck in it. Demyx stared for a moment longer, the wheels turning but getting no where with the question that now plagued his mind -

Where the _hell_ had the ring come from?

"Oh, that's where that went," the male said, jarring Demyx out of his thoughts. He reached over and grabbed Demyx's wrist. The musician blushed as the Brit pulled the ring off of his finger, putting it back on his. The British male grinned in satisfaction, flashing the smile Demyx's way. "It's my class ring. Mum would screech like a monkey if I lost it. Crazy woman, really, but endearing. Where were we?"

He said it so casually. So calmly. Demyx could just stare. Did he do this often? "Why the hell was I wearing your class ring?" he asked slowly, a little scared of the answer.

"Well it's Las Vegas, you know. We obviously got married."

Demyx buried his face in his hands as the blond Brit got up, collecting his glitter-covered clothes scattered around the room. This was not happening. Where was Axel and Roxas when he had needed them? How could they let him walk off with a stranger? Hell, their manager was there and that crazy woman watched them like a hawk! How could the strict Larxene let him go?

"Done freaking out yet? You'd think you'd never been with a man. Which, if what you blurted out about your ex was the truth, you have." There was cloth rustling, clothes being pulled on. "Life's a game. You gotta take risks if you want to get anywhere in life. We had fun, right? No harm has been done. I don't think our marriage was real, you know. No documents or anything."

Demyx peered up at the man, chin resting on his legs. "Sorry, I'm just not used to one night –" Suddenly something caught Demyx's eye, making him stop mid sentence. "Is that an Elvis wig?"

"Yeah," the older male replied, buttoning his pants and poking the black mass on the floor with his toe. "I think it's yours."

"Hell no would I ever wear an Elvis wig, even drunk," Demyx said slowly, finding it odd how easy it was to talk now that his head was a little more clear, if still a little painful. "It's probably yours."

The guy raised an incredibly blond eyebrow. "Wanna bet on that? I'm sure someone took pictures."

Demyx groaned again. Pictures were the last thing he needed to see. "No thanks, I'll trust you," Demyx told him, looking out the window. The sun was rising far off in the distance. Axel and Roxas would be waking up in their tiny, dingy motel room any moment now, wondering where the guitarist was. Their manager would be making calls and threats if he wasn't back soon. Demyx sighed and shifted to the edge of the bed, beginning to grab whatever clothes were within reach.

"Hey, what's your name?" Demyx asked as they both dressed, earning a odd look. He glanced at the other male and looked away. "Hey. I'm curious, alright? I'd feel like a whore if I just slept with you and never got your name."

That earned him a grin. "Luxord."

"Demyx," Demyx offered, watching Luxord pull on his shirt. The blond tossed him the rest of his clothes, which were thankfully intact.

"You need a ride, Demyx?" Luxord asked, looking away politely.

Demyx shook his head, yanking on his pants. "No, I have a friend I can call."

"Too scared to ride with me?"

The mocking tone was back, but Demyx just bit his lip. "Nah, they'll just be worried if I show up with some stranger. No offense."

Luxord chuckled. "None taken. Although I must tell you, they were the ones who convinced you to, as I believe the loud one said, 'let loose'." He grinned a little. "He cornered me as I was leaving the bar, told me you'd be sneaking glances at me. I knew you hadn't, but he apparently had it in his mind that he needed to play match-maker. "

Demyx's mouth dropped. Yeah, by the end of the day, he was going to be a two man band. Axel was going to die for this, and Demyx could easily make up for the missing vocalist. "Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'd lie?" Luxord asked, glancing over his all honesty, Demyx wanted to reply yes. Instead, Demyx hurriedly buckled his belt in silence while Luxord continued talking. "I suppose it was just in the cards tonight I'd get lucky. Obviously from your reaction they don't usually let you do wild stunts like this."

Demyx didn't correct him with the fact the he usually didn't let himself do wild stunts like this. He fastened the last button on his shirt, made sure nothing was missing, and turned around to face Luxord. "Look, I was wondering if you could keep qui -"

"Understood," he said, holding up a fingerless gloved hand, pressing a finger to his lip, "Rising rockstar. Tabloids. I won't tell, promise." He winked, taking a step forward. "On one condition that is."

Demyx frowned a little, taking a step back. He didn't like that tone. "Which is?"

Luxord laughed. "All I want is a little parting gift," he said, and with two steps he grabbed Demyx's shirt before he could back up and pulled him forward. They were roughly the same height, and thanks to the wonderful thing known as gravity, Demyx fell roughly against Luxord, their lips and chests pressed together.

The kiss was rough but quick, and Demyx felt it even when Luxord pulled away and walked out the door. Like red licorice and whiskey. It left him blushing long after Luxord left. After several moments Demyx licked his lips, and slowly made his way to the phone by the bed to call Axel. Only later would he find a Joker tucked into his back pocket, a phone number written on it.

* * *

"So where were you? Get lucky like I told ya to?"

"Nope. Just went out," Demyx muttered, rolling the card between his fingers as he watched the sun rise in the distance. They were going back to the motel where he'd started yesterday morning. How he had gone from playing on stage to landing in bed with an attractive male was still beyond him. The night had come back completely to him, more or less. He kept replying it in his mind.

He'd gotten done with his first major gig with the band he'd put together. They – Axel, Roxas, and himself – celebrated with a night on the town. It was Las Vegas, who wouldn't? He'd gotten dragged to the casino along with Roxas by an overly excited Axel who was determined to blow all his money on one night, to which Roxas protested loudly. They'd gotten separated, Demyx had wound up watching a Poker tournament.

Luxord had been good, the best even. If he did cheat, no one saw.

He'd come and found Demyx at the bar later, and bought him a drink. Everything got a little fuzzy after that.

"Did you find a pretty girl last night? Memorize her number?" Axel's voice held all sorts of implications, refusing to let the subject go. He leaned over and used one arm to nudge Demyx, jarring him from his thoughts.

Demyx laughed, shaking his head at Axel. "Did you? You had Roxas to yourself, poor kid." Demyx knew the red head's feelings for the young drummer. "You didn't molest him in his sleep, did you?"

Axel grinned. "Tried, but he woke up. You're avoiding the question."

"You are too."

Axel laughed, throwing his head back into the Vegas wind, the hood on his convertible down. He glanced at his friend, grinning. He saw him walk out with that blond guy, the Brit who had winked and quietly assured him without Demyx knowing that he'd take care of him for the night. He was contemplating how to get an admission out of him when he saw the card. Axel's curiosity piqued. "What's that?"

Demyx glanced down, eying it. He was half tempted to throw it into the wind, rip it up too. Or maybe someone else would find it, give Luxord a call. Demyx thought about it, holding it up for a moment. Instead he just grinned a little, tucking it back into the pocket of his jeans.

He winked at Axel. "A parting gift."

Axel nodded, laughing a little. "_Right_." A few minutes pasted in comfortable silence, and Demyx let out a sigh of relief that Axel didn't interrogate him further. While last night was rather fun, he wanted to avoid talking about it. Axel could make anything humiliating. He wanted to avoid embarrassment at the moment.

Which, sadly, never happened with Axel.

"By the by - You have this massive hickey on the side of your neck. May want to get make up for that."


End file.
